


Thank You

by emudii



Category: Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Canon Divergence, Disabled Character, F/M, M/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-22
Updated: 2009-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-17 22:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emudii/pseuds/emudii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zack survives Midgar, but just barely. Reno picks up the pieces... but just barely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank You

**Author's Note:**

> (10/22/2009) written for Tenacitas because I am a terrible, terrible friend

The heart is capable of enormous things. Wondrous things. _Terrible_ things. Just wanting changes nothing, but wanting something with all your heart and chasing it with all you have… can change _everything_. Reno believes this now, at the edge of all things, hands soaked in blood and his stomach twisting itself inside out. He believes because Zack _makes_ him believe. Because there is no other way to understand the mechanics of a miracle. And this can only be that. He cradles dead weight in his arms and screams back to Rude, over the roar of the helicopter: _Hurry! A potion! Call Tseng_ now _! Tell him the target is still alive!_   Fair’s breath is no more than a stuttering, wet wisp on the inside of his wrist. But something is better than nothing.

* * *

The heart is a selfish thing. Miracles always exceed reality but never our expectations. That Zack survived his wounds was a miracle but it’s no longer _enough._ He thinks, distractedly, that he wasn’t properly prepared that day. He should’ve had an Elixir or two on hand instead of just Potions. Someone ranked SOLDIER First Class needed _so much more_ than that. No one blames him of course. He’d gone in on that mission blind. But that doesn’t make it better, doesn’t erase what happened. He still has to live with that failure. And he still blames himself.

* * *

He visits Medical on Sundays and Wednesdays—not too often, but _far_ too often. Zack never asks why; he smiles politely and asks about the weather. About the city. About Aerith. Because of the situation he hasn’t seen her and he’s concerned. He hopes she can still forgive him.  
  
Reno frowns and offers him tea instead of answering that. He hasn’t gotten up the nerve to tell him about the letters, or the fact that Aerith still doesn’t know. She probably shouldn’t, anyway. It’ll just complicate things and Zack probably doesn’t want her to see him this way either. It doesn’t go unnoticed. The ex-SOLDIER gives him another smile, more brittle than the first, and Reno pretends not to notice for his own sake. The inner light that used to make Zack so _blinding_ has dimmed to a flicker, and that darkness is somehow even harder to look at. The Turk looks away.

* * *

The heart is self-destructive. He’d known, back then, that it was his own misplaced guilt that drove him to this, that seeing Fair through his recovery was a thinly veiled attempt to atone for his own mistakes. He’d _known_ better than to have gotten so attached to something so futile. But here he is, once again, like so many times before, looking into those flat, dull eyes and _wishing_ … Maybe for another miracle. Maybe for closure. Maybe for Zack to _finally_ turn him away, for good, this time. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. _Tell me what to do, yo._  
  
But like a lone ember, Zack is folded in on himself, drifting away and growing cold. Not speaking. Instead, he hunches over in bed, face hidden behind his knees—his final attempt at comfort. _Not for himself_ , Reno thinks, _for me._ Because Fair no longer has the strength to smile—for himself or _anyone else_ —to feign interest in the world around, to fight the shadows overtaking him. He hides because Reno is his friend.  
  
The Turk curls his hands into fists to stop them from grabbing his face and _forcing_ him to _look_ , even if he can’t _see_ , what all of this is doing to everyone around him. He can’t… he can’t do that. He wishes he knew _what_ he _could_ do.

* * *

The heart is a fickle thing. Reno remembers that time, in the days right after Zack came out of his coma, when he’d been less gracious and more suspicious of all of them. How he’d grimaced in disbelief as they attempted to explain the whole mess with ShinRa and the Turks and how Rude finally had to leave, promising to bring back sandwiches, since it was going to take a while.

At that time, he’d thought that obtaining Zack’s acceptance and forgiveness would be the hardest part of this entire ordeal. He knows now how very, _very wrong_ he was. Zack’s scowl is _so much_ easier to bear than this empty, non-expression.

* * *

Fair is finally released to out patient status, and it couldn't have come any faster. Something has been itching at Reno for the last few days, and he’s even antsier than Zack for the final signatures to be inked. He’s got a feeling… his sixth sense is telling him that _something_ is looming overhead. For the first time in months, it might not have to do with Zack.  
  
Still, he can’t help but feel his heart sink once they make it outside. Zack tilts his head, wonderingly, into a breeze, eyes tracking curiously overhead. _It’s warm,_ he says, almost to himself.

 _…It’s still sunset,_ Reno replies, knowing that he shouldn't. Zack just nods, hunching in his wheelchair, and Reno nearly kicks himself. _I could tell you about it, y’know_ , he says, like an apology. Cloudy eyes slowly slide up again, following his voice. Blind.  
  
_I’d like that._

* * *

The heart is a _treacherous_ thing. He doesn’t know when things became like _this_ , but they’re _long_ past the point of no return. He can’t _not_ be involved. He speaks encouragingly to the other man, trying to coax him to eat, but Zack turns his face away, burying it in his pillow instead.

 _I’m tired_ , he says, _I just want to sleep._  
  
Zack hasn’t eaten at all today, or yesterday, and Reno _almost_ threatens to take him back to the hospital, where they’d force it into him with tubes. He doesn’t only because he can’t stand the thought of Zack shutting down any further. The Zack he’d known was so full of life and hope and _dreams_ … _Nothing_ had the power bring him down. _This_ Zack… is nothing more than a shell of a human being—a broken body, awaiting death. Reno isn’t so stupid as to think of it as anything else; if he were in Fair’s shoes, he’d want the same. But he can’t bring himself to let it go.  
  
_Please,_ he whispers, hands shaking. Staring at the sheets bunched over Zack’s hips and not at the shrunken spaces once filled with muscles. Staring at the pulse in his throat instead of those unseeing eyes. Staring at the dog tags still hanging, mere decorum, instead of at the empty spaces where Zack’s arms _used_ to be. Staring and staring and _staring into nothing._  
  
They’re both disappearing. They’re both becoming nothing.

* * *

The heart is illogical. It wants what it wants and Reno wishes he understood this _want_. _Don’t do this to me,_ he hisses, shaking Zack by the shoulders. He doesn't know what he’s doing anymore, and it doesn't help but he’s just so _frustrated_. He refuses to see the inevitable conclusion. He _won’t._ He’s invested _too much_ of himself into this man to let him just wither away.  
  
_Just let me sleep,_ Zack pleads without opening his eyes, and Reno feels his whole world coming apart—for more reasons than just this, of course, but this is horrible, too. It’s just one more thing, in an endless list of things, that are beyond his reach, in a time when his life is spiraling out of control. And while he wants to scream, screaming at Fair is pointless; so he settles, instead, for crying: no tears, no sobs. Just a touch of lips against Zack’s, light and shaking and full of every emotion he can’t articulate but _hopes_ will be _felt…_ And when he pulls back, Zack’s eyes are wet.

* * *

The heart is weak. He wishes he could go back to when he was still stronger than his own heart; he _had_ been, for such a long time… But maybe this is all too close to home, now. Too raw. Death had always been so quick and impersonal, in his line of work. He’s never had to eat-breathe- _live_ it. Even _cancer_ patients had never seemed this fucking _hopeless_ to him.  
  
He regrets that he hadn't gotten more time with Fair before that ill-fated mission to Nibelheim. He wishes that he had more good memories to keep them both afloat, to maybe give him an _idea_ of where things could go, if he tries harder… But he’s just so _tired_ , now. Of everything.  
  
Just like Zack, he thinks that he might be giving in.

* * *

The heart is what it is. He’s done pretending that he’ll _ever_ understand it otherwise. He’s done trying to understand. He can only accept that things came to what they are, and that his only chance for control—for _redemption_ —lay in taking what he can and running with it.  
  
_Hey buddy,_ he whispers the greeting into his ear, and Zack just breathes, tilting his head to listen. _I’m sorry_. His voice doesn't crack, and he’s grateful. He lets the muzzle of his gun settle, firmly but gently, against Fair’s temple, and quietly observes how his eyes slowly widen and water—mouth trembling as realization sets in. His “gaze" slides over, _trying_ to see him. _Trying to see_ , one last time. And Reno _hates_ that he can’t, because this is the _most_ emotion he’s shown in _months_. He kisses him again—their second and final one—pouring every hope and horrible dream he ever had into him. Forcing him to bottle it all up inside his body and soul. And Zack… responds, _finally_ , kissing back with desperation—with relief—his lips forming words that Reno swallows hastily. The gunshot echoes through Fair and into him like a physical thing, tasting of  blood and the beginnings of _true_ despair. A strangled noise escapes him and he has to force himself up, to _look._ Because he _owes_ it to the both of them to never forget this. Because this is the truth.  _This_ is what the heart is. This broken thing… is his heart.

 _…You’re welcome_ , he whispers.

 


End file.
